


you got a fast car, is it fast enough so we can fly away?

by styles_allure



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Bottom Louis, Car Sex, Diners, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, How Do I Tag, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Niall is a Good Friend, Road Trips, Sarcastic Harry, Sassy Louis, Smut, Top Harry, Virgin Louis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-13 11:27:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11758890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/styles_allure/pseuds/styles_allure
Summary: Instead of a relaxing summer break, Louis reluctantly agrees to accompany his adoptive brother, Liam, on a spontaneous and secret road trip to meet his birth parents. If that sounds like an insane idea, that's because it is.Also, it's worth mentioning that the driver is Liam's rowdy, rude, cocky asshole of a friend. None other than the notorious Harry Styles.Basically, Louis is paranoid, Liam is excited, Harry sucks, Niall texts a lot and everything is bound to go wrong.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so excited to finally start posting this work! I've been a bit obsessed with it lately, and I'm happy to share it with you guys. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it.
> 
> You can find my tumblr [here](https://subharrybless.tumblr.com)  
> and my twitter [here](https://twitter.com/kiwisfionn)
> 
> Ask me anything anonymously, talk to me, anything you'd like!
> 
> Thankfully, I'm going to have some amazing help to keep this from being a complete disaster. You can find her tumblr [here](http://rbbsbb.tumblr.com)

_Summer Camp Cancellation_

_Due to reported severe weather in the area during most of the month, it has been decided that the Lakeland Summer Camp 2016 will be cancelled until further notice. All prepaid transactions will be refunded in full, or kept on register until a new date is confirmed. Email with any questions/comments or concerns._

_Regards, Lakeland Team._

Thank the fucking heavens.

This day has been absolutely horrible, worthless to the point that Louis’ had to physically hold himself back from banging his head against the wall. As tempting as it sounds, he would’ve—if he wasn’t worried about the sizable bruise that would undoubtedly come up on half his forehead. His fringe can only cover so much, and he’s not willing to sport it.

The day went to shit when Louis had to walk to school alone because Liam, his adoptive brother of oh so many years, chose to sleep in. That was only after he dropped his phone into his bowl of cereal. Louis was more upset about his ruined cocoa puffs than his actual phone, but he was upset, nonetheless. His priorities are top notch.

His lonely walk was almost unbearable. It was somewhat eased by listening to music, but not enough to make it as pleasantly tiresome as when he gets to gossip about Liam’s popular friend group and all of the first world problems that they so often complain about. He’s always hearing _my mom wouldn’t pay me my allowance, so I couldn’t order the new Chanel bag I’ve been wanting and Stephanie got mad at me because I didn’t snapchat her back, but I had so many people message me after that selfie I posted_ and, Louis’ favorite, _I wanted to wear my darker jeans, but because they’re bootcut they wouldn’t match my converse._

So, his walk was boring and lonely, spent in full listening to some Fleetwood Mac song as company. The inside of his cheek was chewed raw by the time he wound up at school.

Later in the day he was surprised by a pop quiz in math class—which he failed, obviously—and wouldn’t be shocked if he found out that his teacher had actually cried from how badly he did. Louis never has the time or the will to study for such a thing, meaning that he’s never able to pass such a thing. He has a deep rooted hatred for whoever came up with the concept of pop quizzes, would like to have a word or two with them.

Needless to say, getting the email about summer camp being cancelled was a light amidst a potentially devastating day.

He and Liam are camp counsellors by vote of their parents, who insisted that they accept the job in order to gain some ‘leadership experience’ and ‘quality work ethic.’ But when summer comes around, all Louis wants to do is lay on the couch with a box of poptarts, binge watching Netflix for a few days straight. Just because it’s summertime and he can.

Instead, during the first month of summer he has to sleep in a cabin with two twin-sized beds, Liam only a few feet away and snoring from the time they go to bed until they wake in the morning. They rise at the crack of dawn and take a barrage of rowdy kids to the flag, then supervise all activities and meals until the day is over and they’re back to bed.

It was fun the first few times around, then it grew to be absolutely terrible. At one point, the other activity leaders had to drag Louis out of bed by his ankles, and after a few choice words that involved some vibrant swearing and name calling, Louis gave in and proceeded to be a massive grump for the rest of the day.

This year, that’s not happening. His Netflix charade will continue as planned and he will be a slob, loving every single second of it.

In the afternoon, once he’s back at home and ready to let the day’s stress fall away, Louis finds his brother, smile on his face and excitement tinged in his voice.

“Liam, have you checked your email?” Louis asks, grabbing Liam’s attention from where he’s sitting at the kitchen table.

“No, why?”

“Summer camp,” Louis says, drumming his fingers on the tabletop to feed into the anticipation, “has been cancelled! What a time to be alive.”

“ _You’re shitting me_.”

“Nope!” Louis says, only a little too excited. “No babysitting for us this year. Looks like we  _actually_ get to enjoy our summer.”

“And what’s your definition of enjoying, exactly? Laying around, covered in crisps? Not moving from the couch for two days straight?” Liam rolls his eyes when Louis smiles and nods, not even a hint of exaggeration in his joy. Louis doesn’t see it as an insult, even though that’s Liam’s full intention. He’s much too excited to care.

“A little relaxation never hurt nobody.”

“Atrocious grammar,” Liam says, nose scrunching. “But that is awesome news.”

“Exactly.”

The conversation dies after that and the only sound left is the dialogue on the television and the clicking of Liam’s fingers typing away on his laptop. He’s been obsessed with it recently, his computer, and every time Louis even hints at asking what he’s looking up, Liam will slam it shut and brush it off as school research, which Louis doesn’t believe—not one bit.

Their parents should be pulling up any minute, and they’re expecting the dishes to be washed and put away and for the house to be spotless.

Fortunately, Louis can knock out household chores like they’re nothing due to his love for cleaning. It’s contradictory to his personality, but he enjoys cleaning more than the average Joe. He likes when things look organized, all pristine and dusted.

Liam never does what he’s supposed to. He often pays Louis to do the work for the both of them and keep quiet about it. Taking money and bribery for something that he wouldn’t mind to do himself, for free, leaves Louis with little to complain about.

Liam and Louis are polar opposites, something that very well adds onto the fact that Liam is adopted. Liam is very bourgeois—much more than Louis—and is seen as the golden boy. Everyone loves to be around him, whether it be because they want to date him or be his best friend, in some cases be exactly like him.

He used to be on the football team, the most popular player in the school. He was forced to quit, however, when he claimed that he needed to focus more on his studies. With amazing grades throughout his high school career, even during his time on the sport’s team, Louis has always had a nagging feeling that Liam was lying about it, though.

Unlike his brother, Louis keeps more to himself. He’s rather introverted, distant from people outside of his circle. He likes to stay close to a small group of people, feeling that high school is full of fake and rude people, generally. If given the choice, Louis doesn’t care to be associated with most of the world around him.

Where Liam gets invited to most every party, friends with seniors despite being only a junior, himself, Louis is usually brushed off, unknown to the high school population. People will ask Liam about his brother, will wonder aloud with, “You’re related to him? The loner kid?” or, “That’s your brother? Who would have thought.”

Louis’ entire legacy is being a loner in high school. He’s _that_ person. But, anyways.

The front door eventually creaks open from the end of the house’s long hallway, and the echo of heels on the hardwood floor signal that their mother is home from work. Louis hears her pause, probably checking to see that everything was cleaned and dusted to the nines. After a few seconds of silence and an uncertain glance from Liam, a silent conversation of _yes, everything is clean_ and _yes, I’m very sure_ , her footsteps begin again, taunting as they come closer to the kitchen.

“Boys!” Her voice is pitchy and brash, filling through the house. “Where are you?”

“Kitchen!” Liam shouts, and Louis lets himself sink down into a chair.

When their mom rounds the corner, her perfume clogs up the air, strong enough to suffocate a horse or elephant or something. She dresses like a banker, all classy and neat. With fancy high heels and expensive dress suits, her hair is always pulled up tight and high, straight to her waist. Despite her appearance, she doesn’t work at a bank, but manages a store for Versace. Their father is a doctor, keeping the family legacy in high ranks.

“The house looks nice. Did you both have a good day at school?”

“Yeah,” they both echo, voices monotone.

Liam waits a second before offering, “How was your day at work?”

She states, “It was busy,” in a simple and distant voice, setting her purse on the counter. She runs her fingers over the granite surface, observant as to whether it’s been cleaned or not. Louis doesn’t quite understand why she likes everything to be so clean, as sterile as a hospital, but he would never speak up against it. “Do you want me to make you both a snack?”

“No, thanks,” Louis says. “I finished off the bag of crisps in the pantry when I got home, so that should hold me off until dinner.”

Liam’s voice pipes up from across the table, smiling as he meets his mom’s eyes. He says, “Sure, I could eat,” and manages to shut his laptop just as their mother moves to pass behind him, eyes in range of the screen. His fingers interlock, hands coming together, and Liam rests them on top of the computer case, acting as though nothing has happened.

With that, Louis decides that he ought to excuse himself. He makes a beeline up to his room, closing the door firmly behind him. This way, Liam is the one stuck with all the hammering questions that their mom constantly bombards them with after school.

_Did you get any grades back today?_

_Do you have a lot of homework today?_

_Were you sure to put all of your effort into your assignments? Wouldn’t want to see any poor quality reflected in your final term grades._

He can almost hear her voice, the strict tone of it—can feel the way her words sink deep into his skin and bubble with resentment. It’s always felt as though he’s under constant surveillance, like his life is right under the lense of a microscope, being scrutinized and watched at all times. And, while Liam is able to handle such stress, can take their mother’s constant prodding and judgement, Louis only becomes more worked up.

He pulls his cell out, sure that it still smells of sour milk from its dip in his cereal this morning. There’s one text from Niall, a friend from school, asking if he’ll be able to copy his math homework before first period tomorrow. Louis rolls his eyes, types out a _why can’t you do your own for once?_ before deleting it and typing out a more polite _sure, that’s fine._

If there’s anyone who is more lazy than Louis, it’s Niall. Which says a lot.

He’ll wear the same exact pair of jeans for a week straight because he refuses to do laundry. Even then he’ll only wash his clothes because his mother insists, practically begging him to get off his bum to do something productive.

Niall’s still a good friend, though. He’s one of the few people that Louis considers family outside of his own.

Louis’ room is on the second floor of the house, but it’s definitely one of the smaller rooms. It’s simple, with navy blue sheets on his bed and dark wood furniture. There’s an old record player hidden away in the corner, something that his grandfather gave to him before he passed away.

His bed is tiny, small for the house but big enough for Louis to fit comfortably. It isn’t a huge inconvenience, the bed being so small, because Louis’ never had anyone over to share it with. He has no need for it to fit two, what with him never having people over. His mom would lose it if she ever caught Louis with someone in bed, especially before marriage. Even more so if she caught Louis with another boy, which is _exactly_ what he likes. If she had even a clue that Louis was interested in other boys, she would go completely mental.

So, he’ll never have sex before marriage. Definitely no gay sex.

Louis will likely be a virgin until he’s moved out and gotten his own place. The sad truth is that he’s never even touched another boy. While he has kissed a girl before, there was nothing there. It left him with no feelings, was as bland as a slice of bread.

He knew he was gay the moment he developed a crush on a boy named Winchester in his sixth grade class. Louis always thought that it was a weird first name, but he wanted to kiss him all the same. He would blush at the thought, chickening out at any chance he would find.

It ended up with Winchester moving to Seattle, leaving Louis devastated.

That’s in the past, though, and he’s managed to keep it a secret for all these years.

He turns the television on, flipping through the channels until he finds some documentary about how money is made. It’s boring and he’s not really paying attention, but Louis’ just going to use it as background noise while he finishes his homework. His teachers decided to plot together and load him down with enough arithmetic and science jargon to keep him busy for the rest of the night, if not some of the morning, too. He also has an English thesis paper due at the end of the week that he hasn’t even started.

It’s all stressful and he can’t wait until next Friday, the last day of school. He’s been marking down the days on his calendar. The day he’s able to switch off his alarm and spend the day doing whatever he wants is the day all of the stress and strain melts away and he can peacefully, honestly smile again.

Before he’s even able to pull his math textbook from his bag, a small knock comes at his bedroom door. He absently shouts, “come in,” and waits for the door to open.

It’s not uncommon for his mom to check and make sure he’s doing his work, but, to his surprise, it’s Liam who pulls the door open and steps inside. He closes the door behind him and silently shuffles to sit beside Louis on his bed, voice strained when he says, “Hey.”

“Uhm, hey?” It sounds more like a question than a greeting, but if he words didn’t give away his confusion, his facial expression sure did, “Do you need something?”

“Yeah, you could say that.”

Louis blinks, waiting. Liam bites in his lower lip, dropping his eyes to his lap. It looks as though he’s having an internal struggle, eyebrows knitting together and knuckles going white with how he’s clenching his fists.

“Out with it, then,” Louis says, ushering for Liam to spit out whatever is on his mind. Louis’ never been a fan of awkward silence.

“This is gonna sound crazy...” Liam says, voice dragging out.

“Okay. And?”

“You know how you’re always saying how upset you are that you’ve never given me a birthday present?” Liam asks, and his words are quick and jumbled and nervous and it makes Louis uneasy.

“Yeah, because you’re hard to shop for. Why?”

“I came up with something. And, if you did it, it would make up for all the presents that you’ve never given me.”

Louis leans back onto the bed, trying to calm the tension and relax Liam just a bit. He raises a brow, curiosity in his voice as he says, “Continue.”

“I’ve been doing some research. Looking into, you know, my birth parents. And I’ve found some stuff on 'em. Like some really important stuff.”

Louis’ brows automatically knit down. “So, you want me to make a scrapbook about them? I don’t see where this is going.”

“Not exactly.” Liam looks like he’s having trouble, like he wants to backtrack and forget he ever said anything.

“Will you stop dancing around the question and just ask me? The worst thing that can happen is I say no.”

Instead of being direct, Liam responds with another irrelevant question. “You know how summer camp was cancelled?”

Louis groans, wanting to get to the point. “Yeah.”

“I looked at mom’s phone while she was making lunch. She didn’t get the email. I’m betting dad didn’t, either.”

Louis stays quiet, staring at the ceiling and letting the wheels in his head turn, trying to piece together what Liam’s saying. He's coming up with nothing.

“Let’s not tell them it was cancelled.”

“Why the hell would we do that?” Louis asks, even more confused than before. “So we can go somewhere else instead, maybe?”

“Like?”

“Like New York. “

Louis leans forward, head cocked to the side as he tries to figure out what Liam’s getting at. It only takes a second before cogs start turning in his head, everything coming together. Then, it hits him. Liam’s looking into his birth parents, he wants to go on a trip to New York for some reason, and the two must be correlated.

“No, absolutely not.”

Liam throws his hands up, mouth agape. “Louis, please! I want to meet them so, so bad. You have no idea—”

“No,” Louis says, abruptly. “That’s suicide. Mom and Dad would find out and kill us. It’s not happening.”

“They won’t find out,” Liam says, voice desperate. “Please, at least consider it.”

“ _No_.”

“Louis, I just... I just want to ask them. I need to know why they didn’t want me. If there was something wrong with me—or, if they just, _I don’t know._ I just need some answers.” The sound of Liam’s voice breaking makes Louis’ heart flip in his chest. It doesn’t help that Liam is fighting back tears, eyes wet with it and threatening to spill over.

Louis’ still in shock, knows that it’s a terrible idea. He loves his brother, though, and the thought of seeing him this heartbroken any longer is almost unbearable.

With a heavy sigh on his lips and the shake of his head, Louis asks, “How would we even get there? We can’t afford airplane tickets, and, even if we could, planes weigh seven hundred and forty thousand pounds. That’s terrifying, and they shouldn’t be able to fucking fly. That isn’t natural.”

“I was thinking we could drive.”

“Am I supposed to shit out a sedan, Liam?” Louis asks, totally serious. “Neither of us own a car. We can’t afford hotels. We can’t afford anything.”

“I know someone with an SUV.” Liam looks beyond hopeful, like he has this all figured out. “There’s enough room in the back for us to sleep.”

“And they’re okay with driving us across the country?” Louis asks, half sarcastic and half baffled.

“I haven’t asked him yet, but I think so. He’s graduated, and he doesn’t really work, so.”

“Who?” Louis asks, and it comes to him before Liam is able to talk. There’s only one person who Liam knows and likes enough to trust with something like this. Louis’ voice is cold when he says, “It’s not that Harry kid that your friends talk about, is it? I’d rather die than spend an entire road trip with him.”

“You don’t even know him,” Liam says.

Harry _fucking_ Styles is the only exception to the rule that all of Liam’s friends tend to go by. They’re usually all smart and clean cut, happy and spoiled and outlandish. Any time that Louis eavesdrops on their conversations and Harry is mentioned, though, his name always comes along with talk of drugs and smoking and sex. Sometimes they talk about his tattoos, about how he’s just gotten another one to add to his collection.

Louis’ never met or seen the boy, what with him apparently not being in school—for reasons that Louis doesn’t even want to begin to imagine—and his and Liam’s parents refuse to let Harry come over.

“I don’t want to meet him,” Louis says.

“Quit being judgmental. He’s nice.”

The look Louis shoots Liam makes him raise his hands in surrender, eyes wide and defeated. “Okay, he’s not nice. He’s probably the only person willing to help, though, so.”

“I’d probably catch an STD from just sitting in his back seat,” Louis says. “No thanks.” “Harry doesn’t fuck anyone in his back seat.”

“You’re sure about that?” Louis asks, because he can recall, not too long ago, hearing Liam’s friends go on about the girls that Harry would take out in his car and show a great time.

Liam lets out a soft huff, says, “You’re right.”

He holds up his index finger. “But, we really can’t be picky here. If we’re gonna do this, it’s a sure bet with Harry. We’ll just have to pay gas money, and it’d be worth it to meet my parents.”

Louis knows Liam doesn’t mean to hurt him. Still, he says, blankly, “Your parents are right downstairs.”

“You know what I mean.”

Louis takes a few minutes to collect his thoughts, think over the situation because making rash decisions isn’t something he’s going to ever do. They would have to lie to their parents. They would have to travel across the country with someone Louis’ never met, but has a strong disliking for already. They would have less than a month and two thousand, seven hundred and eighty nine miles to go through. It sounds so unreasonable, two seventeen year olds doing this without getting caught.

“How old is he?” Louis asks. “Harry, I mean.”

“Uh, I think he just turned eighteen. Why?” Liam looks hopeful again, like maybe he’s made some sense in Louis’ mind.

“Just wondering.”

Louis’ mind is racing with all of the possibilities of how this could go terribly wrong. They could get caught. The car could break down. Harry could turn out to be insane. Everything in his body is telling him that it’s best to shut it down now, to tell Liam he’s sorry but they can’t.

“Louis,” Liam says, and his voice is so gentle that it sinks deep into Louis’ skin. He sounds so sincere and full of emotion that Louis can feel it in every inch of his body, heart lurching when Liam says, “This would mean the world to me. I can’t do it without you.”

It hurts, physically, when Louis has to shake his head. “Liam, we can’t.”

“We can.” Liam says, practically jumping from his seat. “We can do this.”

“What if something happens? What if the camp calls? What if one of us get hurt or lost—what if we, like, get kidnapped?” Louis’ words spill out frantically. He’s terrified.

Not because it’s dangerous, but because he wants so badly to ignore the blatantly obvious and say yes for Liam’s sake.

“We’ll be fine. I have a good feeling about this.” Liam says. “I’ve waited for this opportunity for years. Mom and Dad would be destroyed if they knew I wanted to meet my birth parents, Louis. This is the perfect chance. I’m tired of thinking about this until I’m crazy in the head.”

“What if they say hurtful things to you? What if they say they never wanted you? Could you handle that?” Louis could never understand someone not wanting Liam. He is the sweetest, most kind person that he’s ever known. It’s a real possibility, though, and if this whole thing ends with Liam’s heart broken, Louis isn’t sure he could live with himself.

“I need to know.”

Louis’ heart is racing when he gives it another once over in his head.

Nevada. Utah. Colorado. Nebraska. Iowa, Illinois. Indiana. Ohio. Pennsylvania. New York.

Two thousand, seven hundred and eighty nine miles. “Okay.”

Louis can’t think of anything else to say. He can’t hear Liam’s excited squeal. He can’t hear him bouncing up and down on his bed. His mind is too foggy, too busy running wild with his thoughts.

Louis just agreed to take a cross country road trip with his brother. Their parents aren’t going to have a clue that they’re doing it. Harry Styles is going to be driving them.

This isn’t going to be the summer Louis thought it was going to be, in the slightest.

Fucking great.


	2. California

Louis’ room is bit disarray, clothes strewn about and a half eaten slice of pepperoni pizza on the nightstand. The television plays idly in the background, just to balance out the torrent of thoughts in his head. Being honest, it’s really not working. He’s still fighting the urge to daydream of all the shit that can go wrong.

Heavy sneakers on hardwood flooring catches his attention, and Louis tosses a wrinkled t-shirt onto his bed, where it jumbles with the already large pile of clothes. Liam’s head pops around the corner of his door, and Louis debates slamming it in his face.

“For the record,” Louis says, looking away and not acknowledging Liam’s smug smile, “I hate you for this.”

Liam laughs, deep and bellowing, so that the noise vibrates all the way into Louis’ stomach. “You can hate me all you want, pal. I’m just thankful that you’re actually going with me.”

Louis can’t help the sigh that falls from his lips, his teeth gnawing at the already raw skin on the inside of his cheek.

He says, “Lucky me,” more to himself than to Liam. His heart flips fucking aerobatics in his chest as he unzips the empty suitcase he’s been side-eyeing for the past hour and a half. It’s making everything much more real, and Louis’ got this growing hatred for it as the minutes pass.

Liam starts to lean up from the door frame, but Louis pipes up before he can leave. “I’m not even sure how to pack for this. We’re not going to have a washing machine, you know, so I’ll have to bring everything I own.” He tries, and fails, to make his voice seem less whiny.

“Everything you own wouldn’t fit in that suitcase, Louis. I think you’re underestimating how many clothes you own.” Liam’s eyes scan over the mess of fabric littering the bedroom floor. When his eyes meet Louis, his mouth is pulled into an annoyed grimace.

“I think you’re _over_ estimating how much I value your opinion,” Louis states simply. “I don’t own that many clothes.”

“Y’know,” Liam says with a smile, his tone light as air. “If you didn’t care about my opinion, you wouldn’t be adding onto the conversation.”

Louis’ face is completely deadpan when he says, “Will you shut up? I’m trying to pack for the trip you emotionally forced me to be a part of. Thanks.”

He jerks more t-shirts from the bottom drawer of his dresser and folds them neatly into the suitcase, ignoring the fact that it’s already starting to look full. Louis lets out a quiet huff, acknowledging that Liam might be right, considering that his shirts alone take up half the space.

He hasn’t even started on all the sweatpants he’s planning to bring along.

“Harry’s not gonna let you bring a million different suitcases. You had better start packing more efficiently.” Liam saunters over, shoving Louis’ mountain of unpacked clothes out of the way so he has a place to sit.

At Liam’s words, Louis can’t help the noise that falls from his lips. It’s somewhere between a laugh of sarcasm and a disbelieving scoff. Immediately following it, Louis’ voice comes out fully annoyed, saying, “Harry can kiss my ass. I don’t give a fuck.”

“His car, his rules.”

Louis’ jaw tenses. He takes in a deep breath, trying to relax a bit, and replies, “Whatever.” Any other response would come across as petty and immature, and Louis doesn’t need Liam to go on a tangent about how Harry is a saving grace in this whole trip.

Today marks exactly one week since Louis reluctantly agreed to this horrendous trip. Liam has come to refer to their escapade as Operation Birth Parents, which is beyond annoying.

Since he signed on, it feels as though Louis has been constantly bordering a panic attack. The tight chest, the struggle to take a full breath, the uncomfortable sweating—the whole nine yards. Even more so, the urge to lose his shit has been coming at the most inopportune times.

Going to study? Nope, don’t forget about your upcoming trip.

Trying to sleep? Not happening, what are you going to do when your parents find out?

Want to try and watch some porn? Sorry, pal. Not when you’re approximately ninety percent stress and five percent guilt. It sure sucks to be you right now.

And, yes, internal monologue, it really does.

The worst part is, Louis’ a terrible liar. It’s one of the first reasons on the long list of things that outline how Liam’s plan is going to fail. The other day, their mother had only asked about his day, but it was enough to send Louis into a fit of stuttering, with, “Yeah, uhm. Good day. It was a good day. Just an—uh, an average day. Nothing new.”

Then, he had a very abrupt coughing fit that sent him flying to his room, where he mentally shamed himself for about two hours. Eventually he gave up a tried taking an unhelpful nap. With a week that’s subsided of such activities, Louis’ been quite stressed, to say the least.

Liam, on the other hand, parades around like he’s light as a feather, without a bother in the world. It isn’t surprising in the slightest.

Liam has come home, hammered off his ass, and been able to pass by their parents with flying colors. Louis was sure that he would be grounded for a month, but with how convincingly sober he played it, he was able to look their father straight in the eye, give a well executed yawn, and claim, “I have a killer headache and need some medicine. I’ll be right back.”

Louis has always hated how well Liam handles stressful situations. Things like that cause Louis to panic, and he always fucks it up by shoving his foot in his mouth. Where Liam is a slick as can be, Louis can barely hold it together long enough to pretend he wasn’t late to second period because of how long the bathroom lines were.

Nonetheless, they’re already fully committed to this trip. Louis’ just going to have to take his losses and run with them. There’s still a chance that things will go by without a hitch.

Maybe they won’t break down on the side of the road, or get into a wreck of any sort. Maybe they’ll get there without any awkward altercations at disgusting truck stops. Maybe Louis won’t absolutely hate Harry the whole time.

Optimism is a key factor in success, but the odds of the entire tripping going smoothly are slim to none. Even more so, the odds of Louis willingly getting along with Harry are even more slim.

After an intense, quite disturbing research session, the month ahead looks even more daunting. They’re going to be traveling back roads and wooded areas a lot of the time, because it helps to avoid traffic on the interstate.

Louis’ biggest fear is that the car will randomly stop running in the middle of nowhere, leaving them stranded. Imagining the dark forest of trees and the mysterious sounds in the dark makes Louis sweat. He tells himself that it’s a new age, where cellphones and GPS make it almost impossible to be lost in the woods, but it doesn’t cure his fear of daunting wildlife and the possibility of a crazed murderer.

Those aren’t irrational fears. No matter what Liam says.

Anyways.

They’re supposed to leave tomorrow, and Louis’ never even spoken to Harry. He wouldn’t recognize him if they were standing two feet apart, but Liam seems to think that the two of them will get along swimmingly once they get to know each other. Even more so, he swears that they’ll be shitting rainbows with how smitten they’ll become with one another.

Honestly, it seems as though Liam has no clue who his own brother is.

Louis is picky, for lack of better words. People can be cruel and selfish, and Louis is already too burdened with the stress of everyday life to bother making friends with people who will probably screw him over in the long run.

Based on what he’s heard of Harry, if there’s anyone that fits the description of someone who will eventually drive you crazy while being the most cocky, selfish son of a bitch alive, it’s him. Louis highly doubts that they’ll be even close to friends.

“Louis?”

“What?” Louis says with a jump, head twisting harshly in the direction of his brother’s voice. Liam is sitting there, staring at him with his head cocked to the side, munching on the some of Louis’ leftover pizza.

“Were you daydreaming or what? I got up to use the bathroom and grab a soda, but you’re still in the same exact position you were in before I left.” There’s a weird silence while Louis tries to float back to reality. “You haven’t even packed anything else.”

Louis blinks, pressing his lips together and peering around the room. His body squirms at the sight, and he’s sinking deeper into the pile of every t-shirt he owns. He says, “I was thinking,” with a shrug.

“What about?” Liam asks, but he holds up his index finger before Louis can respond. “Wait, scratch that. I don’t want to know. Just try to finish packing before mom and dad get home from dinner. You’ve got like forty minutes.”

“If I’m not done, I’ll just tell them I’m packing for camp.” Louis rolls his eyes and shoves another shirt into the suitcase.

“Right.”

There’s more silence, and Liam starts to walk towards the door.

“Hey,” Louis says, quietly. “Come in and shut the door.”

Liam nods, wordlessly agreeing as he shuts the door and plops back onto Louis bed. He interlocks his fingers, resting them comfortably in his lap.

“We really need to make sure we know what we’re getting ourselves into. This can be a really, really bad idea. I just want to make sure that we both make it home,” Louis pauses, “and preferably without mom and dad waiting on the doorstep with a lot to say and very little patience.”

Liam doesn’t seem worried. His brown eyes are calm and collected. “You worry too much,” He gives Louis an easy smile, and for some reason it makes Louis calm down just a bit. “Stop overthinking this. I know you are, I can smell the smoke coming from the gears turning in your head. Trust me, what you’re imagining is much scarier that what this is actually going to be.”

Louis just shakes his head, swallowing down a lump of panic that rises in the back of his throat. He says, “I don’t know.”

“Trust me,” Liam repeats.

“It’s not you that I don’t trust, Liam. You’re asking me to put a whole lot of trust into someone I don’t even know. And from what I do know, he’s not someone I’d even want to trust,” Louis explains, and he doesn’t mean for it to sound harsh but his tone comes out sharp.

“He’s not that bad.” Liam leans back, resting on a pile of more clothing. “Do you really think I would go with him if I didn’t think we’d be okay? He can be an ass, Louis, but he’s not a bad person.”

“The term ‘asshole’ and ‘bad person’ are pretty synonymous if you ask me.”

An uncomfortable silence falls over the room again, but it gives them both time to think. After a full five minutes pass, Liam finally replies, “He isn’t a bad person.”

Louis’ reluctant to accept it, so he just looks away and breathes out a, “whatever you say.”

He starts unloading some jeans from the closet. Now that he’s paying attention, he realizes how much clothing he actually owns, and how he doesn’t even wear half of it. Most of those outfits were impulse buys that resulted from, “wow, those make your ass look great.” Hook, line, sinker.

Liam stretches his back, the popping of the bones echoing in the room, before grabbing the remote and turning the volume of the television up. “How about I keep you company while you pack?”

“Are you asking my permission, or?”

“No,” Liam says with a shrug. “Not really.”

The rest of the night continues in a similar fashion. Liam will speak up when Louis is quiet for too long or starts staring off into space. He’s always start on some stupid story about one of his friends or ask some random question about how the world works. As annoying as it is, it actually helps Louis’ packing come along. He’s able to get everything packed into one suitcase and lets himself fall onto the floor of his bedroom with a sigh of relief.

Which brings in a rush of memories.

When Liam first came home, he was nervous and quiet. Even though Louis can’t remember a whole lot from their first few years together, both being much too young at the time, he can remember how shy his new brother was. He hardly ever spoke except when saying please and thank you.

Being a bit more vocal, Louis wanted to know why Liam didn’t talk or play with him.

One night, after the rest of the world was sound asleep and the night sky swallowed the house, he snuck into Liam’s bedroom. He sat with legs crossed on the floor, eyes adjusting to the moonlight, and whispered, “are you awake?”

The room stayed quiet for a few moments before Liam finally said, “yes.”

Louis took off from there, his words moving faster than his little mouth could keep up with, which resulted in a ton of babbling and stumbling over incoherent words. He told Liam all about how awesome California was, how much he’d love it here. He described how pretty the beach was and how nighttime was the best part of any day.

He told Liam stories about school, his friends and teachers and how much he liked the bus ride. Liam giggled along, until finally he sat up completely. He flicked on the bedside lamp and they stayed up till the crack of dawn. Liam just listened, and Louis adored that.

Most every night after that Liam would sneak over to Louis’ room. Louis would give him the bed and crawl onto the floor, where he laid down and talked to his brother all night.

It was then that Louis decided that he didn’t care who Liam’s parents were, or where he came from. This was his brother. He’d always laugh with him and make sure he was okay, and he would stay up all night to chat about nothing just so Liam would feel comfortable in his new home.

Not much has changed since then, except for the fact that they don’t stay up together anymore. Honestly, Louis does miss that. He misses their sleep deprived conversations and the rush of sneaking down into the kitchen to grab some food and hauling back up the stairs before their parents would catch them. They’d sit and snack, laughing at how good they were and how they should be professional spies.

All of that is the reason Louis couldn’t say no to Liam. He couldn’t tell him that he shouldn’t go through with this, because Louis knows that Liam has spent his whole life wondering why he was discarded, thrown out by parents who should’ve loved him. No matter how many times Louis would tell him that he wasn’t useless or unloved, the thought never stopped itching in the back of Liam’s mind.

And, Louis couldn’t stand it.

“Are you excited?” Liam asks, now laying on his side.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Louis says with a shaky laugh. “More nervous than anything.”

“You’re such a worry wart.”

“If you ever call me that again, I’m going to smack you. Like, _right_ in the fucking face,” Louis growls, and Liam erupts into a fit of laughter.

“Really now?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Louis responds, nonchalant.

Liam automatically replies with a, “when?”

“Don’t know, probably sometime in the past. I just can’t recall a specific time.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Liam scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“And you’re annoying.”

“You get on my nerves.”

“That,” Louis says, giving Liam a sly smile, “sounds like a personal problem.” He pouts his lower lip, and a finger slides down his cheek as a mock tear.

Liam shrugs it off, opting to change the subject instead. “I’ve got an idea.”

“Shoot.”

“Let’s call Harry.”

“How about we don’t?” Louis cocks his head, brows raised. He’s not in the mood for all of that right this second, considering it’s almost three in the morning. Honestly, he just needs an advil and a nap.

“How about we do?” Liam’s face is covered in the widest, toothiest grin. Before Louis can say anything, Liam’s already flicking through his phone, announcing, “ah, there he is!”

“No!” Louis practically shouts. “No, no, no. Abort mission!”

Suddenly, the room is filled with the sound of Liam’s phone. It’s an obnoxious ring, and it makes Louis want to catapult himself far, far away. He doesn’t want to talk to Harry.

“Yeah?” A voice pipes in, abruptly, and replaces the ringing. The room falls dead silent. Harry’s voice is deep. Like, really deep—and it doesn’t sound like any eighteen year old Louis’ ever heard. Liam smiles into the phone. “Harry? What’re you doing?”

“I’m having a quick smoke break in the park,” Harry says, rush of air blowing over the phone speaker. “Why the fuck are you calling me at three in the morning?”

Louis just blinks, because Harry is actually asking Liam why he’s calling, when he’s the one having a smoke break in the park at this hour.

“Louis’ nervous about this trip because he doesn’t know you.” Liam picks idly at his nails, laying his phone down on the bed between them. Louis’ gut jerks at the sound of his own name, then again when it’s repeated on the other end of the line.

“Louis?” Harry sounds bored and confused at the same time. “Oh, your brother?”

“Yep.”

There’s a short laugh, and it makes Louis’ nose snarl up.

“What the fuck is there to be scared of?” Harry’s tone changes, more brash than anything. “Tell him to let his balls drop. Pull it together, sport.”

Louis’ whole face goes fiery hot and his teeth grind together painfully. He hears an echo of Harry’s taunting words in his head, and all he feels is anger.

He doesn’t bother holding his tongue when he musters up the courage to speak. “How’s this—pull your head out of your ass and don’t tell me what to do. You don’t even know me, you insensitive prick.” Louis’ words are sharp and dripping with hatred and malice. He practically spits the last word, and Liam’s eyes are wide, mouth popped open.

It goes quiet for a few seconds before Harry’s deep voice responds, almost flirty with interest, “You’re a feisty one.”

Louis doesn’t say anything back, just shakes his head in absolute disbelief, and he leans back against the base of his bed, trying to let the rush of heat drain from his reddened face.

Liam replies instead. “Don’t scare him off, Harry, or he’ll back out.”

“No, he won’t.”

“You sound so sure,” Louis bites, and the smug tone of Harry’s voice makes him want to break the phone in half.

“Yeah? Because I am.”

“And why is that?” Louis challenges, glaring at the phone as if Harry can somehow see him.

“It’s hot as fuck out here,” Harry says, completely disregarding Louis’ question. That makes Louis’ jaw clench even tighter. “California fucking sucks.”

“It’ll get colder when we get closer to the East Coast.” Liam acts as if Louis didn’t just get completely ignored and swept under the rug. And, to be frank, Louis’ quite offended by that.

“As much as I appreciate your lesson in meteorology, is there anything important you actually need to tell me?” Harry asks, short.

“Prove to Louis that he can trust you.”

Louis shoots Liam a look of pure hatred and betrayal. He’s making Louis seem weak, and like he’s riddled with anxiety, like he’s a child. And, yeah, he is riddled with anxiety, but that doesn’t need to be a fucking public service announcement.

“I don’t have to prove anything to some kid.”

“You’re a year older than me.” Louis rolls his eyes. “Don’t act so high and mighty.”

“Chill, kid.”

Louis’ biting his tongue. Not just metaphorically, but physically. He can actually taste the metallic tinge of blood. He kind of despises Harry, and he’s going to end up tossing himself out of the car before they’re out of the damn city, for God’s sake.

“You’re pissing him off, Harry,” Liam warns, but there's a teasing undertone in his voice that annoys Louis to no end.

“Wish I cared,” Harry states. Simply, easily, without another thought. Then, he yawns, and ignores them once again in favor of saying, “I’m tired. I’ll be there to pick you both up at one.”

“We wanted to leave in the morning though.” Liam pouts, voice coming out the slightest bit whiny.

“I’m not going to be up before noon, so you can forget that.” Harry laughs, and it’s a dry, raspy sound. “It’ll be a good idea to get a good night’s sleep tonight, because it’s probably the last one you’ll have for a while. My back seat isn’t all that cushioned.”

Louis’ stomach turns at the thought of sleeping in Harry’s back seat, or even the thought of being able to say that he’s slept in Harry’s back seat.

“True,” Liam agrees.

The phone call ends, just like that, without so much as as a goodbye.

Louis decides that Harry Styles is a douche. He imagines him as ugly, with a face that’s always set in a frown. He sounds big and muscular, like he only wears dirty wife beaters and jeans that are too big. He probably smells like booze and mistakes, and has tattoos crawling up his neck. Poorly done tattoos, at that.

Basically, Louis imagines Harry as a grungy, tattooed and dirty Steve Austin.

“He’s rude,” Louis says.

“He just... has a weird sense of humor.” Liam tries to defend Harry, and Louis’ getting tired of that really fucking quickly.

“You call that humor?” Louis laughs. “I sure as hell don’t.”

“You’ll just have to get used to him. He’s like an acquired taste.”

“Pass.”

“You can’t pass,” Liam says, standing up from the bed and letting out a deep sigh. “We’re spending all month with him. It’s not really a choice.” Judging by the look on Liam’s face, it’s the first time he’s realizing that this might actually be an issue, what with Harry being a straightforward asshole and Louis not knowing how to bite his tongue.

“We should get some sleep,” Louis mutters, too tired and annoyed to have this conversation any longer. He can feel himself getting crankier by the minute, and he just wants to be alone with his thoughts. Louis doesn’t like to be ignored, and he doesn’t like to be called a kid, and he doesn’t like Harry.

“Yeah,” Liam agrees, half heartedly. “Just don’t stress too much, okay?”

“Sure.” It’s short because Louis’ still focused on the fact that Liam allowed Harry to be an absolute dick and just laughed, like it was some kind of joke.

Liam’s feet drag as he leaves the room, giving Louis one last glance before closing the door behind him. The room feels emptier, but it also feels a little easier to breathe. Even with the light off, the fan on and the television humming in the background, Louis tosses and turns, flips and flops, all with a huff. His mind won’t let him sleep, won’t let him have a good rest. Despite it only being a week since Louis got a good night’s sleep, it feels like it’s been years.

He’s not ready for tomorrow, but he’s going to suck up his pride and play nice because Liam deserves this. It’s much more important than Louis’ injured ego. Still, he can’t help but replay that phone conversation a hundred times in his head.

“ _Pull it together, sport._ ”

 

 

***

 

 

Louis is an absolute mess the next morning.

He rises out of bed like a corpse from the grave and tries not to slam his head against the wall. He’s running on a total of three hours of sleep, mainly because his body hates him and he can’t possibly sleep in past eight in the morning.

So, Louis gets to writhe in anxiety and stress until Harry the Asshole picks Liam and him up at one in the afternoon.

On top of that, his patience is absolutely obliterated. He was on the verge of tears when the shower water wouldn’t heat up fast enough. And, when there was no toilet paper in the bathroom and Louis had to crab walk to find some. And, when he went to pour himself some cereal, but some sick, twisted fuck left about three bites worth in the box.

For most of the morning, it’s taken everything Louis has to not completely lose his shit.

No sleep, no toilet paper, no fucking cocoa puffs. He hates everything.

Adding onto that, Liam doesn’t wake up until around ten, so Louis just sits around and twiddles this thumbs, watching television without really focusing on it too much. His parents haven’t come downstairs yet, and he’s not going to think about what they’re doing up there or he’ll get sick. So, it’s pretty lonely.

And, it stays that way for a few more hours.

The Walking Dead is the only thing keeping him company, but instead of actually paying attention to the show his mind trails off to what he’d do if he was in the middle of some world-damning zombie apocalypse. Though he knows it won’t ever happen, he still manages to get worked up about it.

Honestly, he’d probably just die.

First of all, Louis isn’t able to kill something as simple as a spider. Talking a big game is something that Louis has pretty much perfected over his teenage years, but he’s harmless. Secondly, he has such a weak stomach, meaning he couldn’t live off canned foods and roadkill. If he saw one dead body, Louis would probably hurl everything in his stomach.

Thinking over the hypothetical helps Louis calm his nerves, taking his attention away from what’s really on his plate. He comes to terms with the fact that his situation could be worse, and that a road trip is nothing compared to the apocalypse. Even if things go south, it won’t be the end of the world.

The sleep deprivation Louis is feeling, however, is not calmed by his thoughts. He finds himself getting a massive migraine the more he waits for his brother to wake or the afternoon to come, and when his mind drifts back to Harry and his humor, the pounding in his temples only worsens.

So, Louis takes some medicine, downs a glass of water, and decides to call Niall.

Being his best friend, Niall is probably going to want to know what devious plans Louis has for the near future. And, Louis can trust him, one hundred percent. When they were in middle school, Louis faked having a stomach bug for a week straight to get out of taking three tests, and Niall was the only person he ever told. Even though it doesn’t seem like a big deal now, Louis felt like a little delinquent and Niall was taking that secret to his grave.

So, he steps outside, sure to close the door quietly behind him, and walks far, far from earshot. The house sits on a few acres of land, with a little wooded area off to the end, and that’s where Louis deems his destination.

He dials Niall’s number as soon as he hits the tree line, and it’s not surprising when he picks up on the first ring. “Hey.”

“Good morning. I can’t sleep and feel dead inside.”

“Lovely as always, Louis. I’m glad to hear your day is going well so far.”

“I appreciate that.”

“So, you never call this early, what’s going on?” Niall asks, and Louis has always felt that Niall has some secret sense when it comes to knowing if something is even a little off with him. Maybe Louis’ just easy to read, but whatever.

“If I told you, you’d freak out.”

“Great, freaking out before noon is one of my favorite things to do on the weekends.”

Louis rakes his foot over the leaves layered on dried dirt. The woods feel homey, which is relatively odd considering Louis’ definitely not considered ‘outdoorsy’ by any means. There’s just something about the security of the trees and the smell of clean air that never fails to comfort him.

Niall doesn’t seem to mind that Louis’ taking a bit long to speak. It happens a lot, Louis thinking and thinking and then thinking some more. And he know’s he gonna tell Niall everything, he just doesn’t know where to start, or how to word it.

So he just blurts out the first thing that rolls off his tongue and into the phone speaker. “Liam and I are going to New York. Today, in like, a few hours.”

“Oh,” is all Niall says, and then there’s some shuffling—Louis’ bets he’s sitting on his bed and preparing him self for a long conversation— before he continues, “when did, uh. When did you decide to do this exactly? Actually, first of all, why did your parents agree to that? They don’t even let you out of the house after nine.”

“They didn’t exactly agree. They have no idea. They think we’re going to that summer camp thing we do every year.”

“Won’t the summer camp call if you and Liam are a no show?”

“It was cancelled, but only Liam and I got the confirmation email,” Louis explains, and feels himself getting jittery again. It could be the nerves, but it could also be the extra strength headache medicine he took on a mostly empty stomach.

“Okay.” Niall breathes, like he’s taking everything in. “How are you getting there?”

“You know anyone named Harry? As in Styles. Harry Styles.”

“I’ve heard of him.”

Of course he has.

“He’s Liam’s friend, and he agreed to drive us there.”

“And you’re up for that?” Niall asks.

“I didn’t really have a choice. It’s so Liam can meet his birth parents, and I couldn’t exactly tell him no. It’d break his heart.” Louis plops down, right on the dirt, and doesn’t care if it covers the back of his pajama pants. His legs are tired and he’s lazy.

“So, let me get this straight. You’re going on a secret road trip behind your parent’s backs, with someone you’ve never even met, across the country?” Even though his words are convicting, his tone has absolutely no judgement in it. Niall’s always been good about that, not being judgmental right off the bat.

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Liam has no idea how much you love him.”

“Stop,” Louis says, rolling his eyes and digging the tip of his finger into the dirt. “He’s my brother, so I want to see him happy, obviously.”

“I don’t think you give yourself enough credit, Louis. It takes a lot to agree to doing something like this. It’s not an easy thing to do, y’know?”

“I’m just going along for the trip, really. It’s nothing.”

“Nothing to you, but I’m willing to bet that it’s everything to Liam.”

Niall’s words seems to tie around Louis’ heart, because out of all the worry and doubt, he’s barely had time to think of how Liam feels about this. How he doesn’t have to do this alone makes Louis happy, and knowing that he can proudly say he would never let that happen makes his heart swell.

“I just hope we don’t die.”

“You won’t die.” Niall breathes an easy laugh. “Worst case scenario is that you get lost and have to read a map. Think of it like this—you’re not taking a month long expedition over the pacific ocean, you’re driving to a different state.”

“That helps.” Louis smiles, a real smile with all the comfort behind it that he can possibly feel a few hours before he leaves with a prick and his brother to navigate all the way to New fucking York.

“You worry yourself too much. People make it their life goal to travel across the country like that. Have fun, enjoy yourself. See places you’ve never been to before. Sleep outside. Listen to music and laugh and pretend like there’s nothing to worry about for the next month.”

“You sound like an inspirational blog. A corny one, at that.” Louis tries to sound mean, but there’s a happiness in his voice that he’s absolutely sure Niall picks up on immediately, because he just laughs.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“We’re leaving at one. Well, that’s if Harry can actually be punctual.”

“From what I’ve heard, I wouldn’t use that word to describe him.”

“What word would you use?”

There’s a bit of a pause on the other end, it makes Louis feel uneasy.

“Wild.”

Louis takes in a deep breath, pressing his teeth together. He half debates asking Niall why, but decides that for the sake of his mental health, he’ll keep that part a mystery. Or, he’ll probably just find out himself. Which is just great.

“Someone left, like, four cocoa puffs in the box this morning.”

“Shit, now you know what true heartbreak feels like.”

“Pretty devastating.”

“That’s what I hear,” Niall says, before adding on, “you should probably get ready to go. I have to be at work soon, but you know to text me if anything happens.”

“You’ll be the first to know.” Louis nods, standing and brushing the dirt of his ass. “But, let’s hope I won’t have to. It’ll go great, right? Yeah.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. Take a lot of pictures. I’ve never been out of California, so I’m gonna be living vicariously through you for the next month.”

“I’ll send at least five every day,” Louis promises. “Go to work, slacker.”

“Sure.” Louis can almost hear the roll of Niall’s eyes, and his friend says, “I’ll talk to ya soon. Have fun!”

“I’ll try,” Louis sighs, saying his goodbyes before ending the call and moping back to the house. Even if he can’t tell much of anyone what he’s doing and where he’ll be, he’s glad that he has Niall to spill everything to. They pretty much know everything about one another.

Niall had called him the day he lost his virginity, which was a little more information than Louis cared to know about, but. He’ll probably tell Niall too, when that day actually comes in another forty years or so. Or, maybe he’ll die a virgin.

He gets home in enough time to get dressed in actual clothes, and lounges comfortably for a bit longer. He eats some lunch, then waits impatiently on the couch for Liam to finish getting ready.

His parents make their way down around noon. They cook breakfast (which is more like brunch, at this point), and shooting Louis questions about how excited he is for summer camp this year. He replies with, “super excited,” while trying to disguise the sarcasm in his voice with actual excitement.

Either his parents don’t pick up on it, or they don’t care enough to elaborate on the sour undertones in his voice. It could really be either. For strict parents, they’re really shit at deciphering emotions.

Liam comes down around twelve thirty, grabbing a plate and shoveling down as many scrambled eggs and slices of bacon as his body can possibly hold.

At exactly one, they’re walking out the door. “We’re having mom and dad drop us off at the bus stop down the street, since we take it to camp every year and they’ll find it really suspicious if we have someone give us a ride. I wanna do everything exactly the same as we normally do.”

Louis nods, biting down on his teeth and trying to keep a neutral face. The whole ride there his parents and Liam are chatting, but Louis can’t hear a single word they’re saying over the thudding of his heart in his ears, the throb of it in his throat.

And, after they drop them off and wave goodbye, a flood of relief washes over when they don’t stay to make sure Louis and Liam actually get on the bus. Really, they don’t have a reason not to trust their sons yet.

“We’ll hangout on the bench until Harry gets here,” Liam tells him.

Louis wordlessly sits, eyes wandering over to distract his mind as he picks at his nails, trying to keep his hands occupied so he doesn’t notice how badly they’re shaking. He’s sure that he’ll calm down more when they’re actually on the road, but right now his nerves are worse than they’ve ever been.

The bus stop is located right across the street from a ton of shops and gas stations, pretty much dead center of a busy intersection.

“You okay?” Liam asks, trying to look Louis in the eyes to gauge him. Louis doesn’t make eye contact, instead choosing to stare off into the distance to try and seem calm, giving Liam a slight nod and the best smile he can possibly muster.

He focuses on a boy pumping gas, talking on his phone to someone.

Whatever it was about him that caught Louis' eye also seems to help alleviate his mind. The guy seems attractive, but that’s an understatement, really. Louis hasn’t seen many boys around that he’s found to be on the cute side, so he’s actually intrigued.

Though “cute” isn’t really the word Louis would use to describe him. He would say something more along the lines of _sex on legs_.

Even from a distance, Louis can tell he’s tall— maybe half a head taller than himself. With long, muscular legs tightly covered under black jeans, Louis wonders how he isn’t dying from the hundred degree heat. He’s wearing a worn out and faded grey shirt with some band logo on the front. And, there’s a multitude of dark black tattoos riding up his arms that Louis can’t see all too well.

He’s got longer than average hair that’s quick to draw the eye. It’s kind of curly, pushed back from his face into a messy quiff. Honestly, it looks as if he rolled right out of bed, shoved on whatever clothes he found on the floor, and left. All while looking insanely hot during the process.

“He’s hot.”

“Who?”

Louis nods in the direction of the boy, still pumping gas, and idly taps his finger on the back of his phone. “Him. I think he’s hot.”

“Yeah?” Liam’s voice is laced with humor, which is without reason considering he’s pointed out hot guys on numerous occasions in the past. Everywhere they go, if they see someone attractive, they’ll both point it out, even though they have completely different taste. Once in a blue moon, they’ll agree and ogle, but neither one has ever made a move. It’s pretty tragic.

“Would you hit it?”

“Don’t be a douche.”

Liam laughs, mostly to himself, and the boy gets back into his car, well— it’s a black SUV that probably sucks down petrol like crazy. He wouldn’t want anything big like that, because Louis prefers smaller cars, like a coupe or possibly a sedan. His dream car when he was little was a Porsche, nine eleven, in silver, with black leather seats.

Louis watches as he pulls out of the gas station, driving directly across the street. He feels borderline stalkerish, but if looking at hot men gets his mind off the persistent stress, he’ll watch as long as he possibly can.

He pulls into the parking lot directly behind them, which makes Louis’ stomach do a flip, like when the roller coaster drops and your heart is in your throat. It’s more of an adrenaline thing, because maybe he’ll come over and talk, and Louis can imagine himself forgetting how to speak and embarrassing the hell out of himself.

Safe to say, when the guy gets out of the car and looks directly at him, Louis’ jaw immediately locks and his whole body tenses. Liam just begins laughing out of nowhere, and Louis snaps his eyes over, hissing, “What’s so damn funny?”

“Are you guys coming or are you just gonna sit there with your fingers in your asses?”

And, oh.

Oh.

Oh, _shit_.

From the first syllable, he recognizes the voice. The roller coaster feeling becomes even stronger, almost sickening, and Louis' stomach threatens to get rid of his four cocoa pebbles and the ham sandwich he forced down for lunch.

It’s not Harry, it can’t be. Harry wasn’t supposed to look like _that_.

“Don’t you dare tell him anything, you understand?” Louis threatens through clenched teeth, standing and shoving his suitcase off the bus stop sidewalk. He doesn’t wait for Liam’s answer before storming off to Harry’s car.

“Still mad?” Harry asks, his mouth twisting into a smile, with deep dimples popping on both sides. Louis wants to punch him right in the face.

“Can we just go?” Louis huffs, going to open the back door. Harry’s hand slams against it, his arm inches from Louis face.

“Hate me the entire trip and be miserable, or get over it. Either way, suck it up buttercup, and have some fun.” His eyes are hidden behind a pair of back Ray-Ban sunglasses, but Louis bets they’re glaring daggers into his own. Louis stares right back, a little awkwardly since all he can see is his angry self in the reflection.

“Don’t call me buttercup.”

“Fine.” Harry removes his hand. “Quit being so sensitive.”

He walks off before Louis can say anything back, and Louis hates him. He hates that Harry is an asshole and he hates that he thinks Harry is so goddamn good looking. He hates him.

He and Liam load all the suitcases into the back while Louis sits, with crossed arms, in the back seat, head leaning against the window. Half the reason is because he’s immature, the other half is because he’s really, really tired. Maybe he’ll sleep most of the way through the first state. But, probably not.

Liam posts up in the front passenger seat, Harry getting in the driver’s side and slamming the door closed. As soon as his foot hits the pedal, Louis lets out a soft sigh. Because here they go, it’s finally happening.

“We’ll trade off who gets shotgun, that way we can take turns napping,” Liam says, glancing back at Louis.

“I don’t want to sit up there.”

“Will you stop being such a baby?” Harry asks, and Louis’ nose snarls up.

“Will you stop calling me stupid names?”

“Probably not.” He can’t see Harry’s face, and is beyond glad of the fact. Louis would probably punch him in the mouth if he saw the smirk that Harry is probably sporting.

“It’s only fair.” Liam states, leaning his seat back. “We’ll switch off every four hours, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Did you guys already eat or do we need to stop and grab something?” Harry asks, and even though it’s an innocent question, Louis’ still annoyed.

“I ate,” Louis replies, simply.

“Yeah, I ate too. Should be fine for a little while,” Liam says.

“Are we just gonna binge on fast food the whole time?” Louis looks back up between Liam and Harry.

“I mean, unless you want to stop at a five star restaurant every couple hours, then yeah,” Harry says, looking back at Louis.

“Keep your eyes on the road. I’m not trying to die today.”

“I know how to drive,” Harry mumbles, and Louis looks away, back out the window. Harry drives extremely fast, and every time he shifts gears, it makes Louis’ back bounce off the seat and thud back down.

Most of the ride for the first little bit is the highway, so it’s boring, only miles upon miles of straight road. There’s occasionally some cones where they’re doing roadwork, but according to Liam, they’re getting off the highway as soon as possible to avoid traffic jams that are quite common in the area.

Harry and Liam chat about some girl and Louis plays on his phone, checking Twitter, then Instagram, and even Facebook. Yeah—he’s that bored.

Thinking about how he accidentally had a mental picture of fucking Harry makes Louis’ stomach churn. He actually eye fucked Harry Styles. Being bored enough to think about it only strengthens the urge for Louis to jump out of the car, because thinking about eye sex with Harry leads to thoughts about how attractive he is, even when Louis finds him to be the most rude person he’s ever met.

“I’m bored,” Louis sighs, trying to change his train of thought. Harry snorts, saying, “I don’t care.”

“Thanks.”

Liam’s dozing off already, and the car keeps accelerating. Louis scoots to the middle, eyeing the speedometer and almost choking as he rushes out, “You’re going over eighty? It’s seventy five through here, are you insane!?”

“Are you gonna be a backseat driver the whole fucking time? Calm down, it’s fine.” “You’re going to get us killed!”

“Doubt it,” Harry says, pausing and looking back at where Louis moved to. “Are you not wearing a seatbelt? Put your seatbelt on.”

“You’re worried about my seatbelt when you’re going fifteen miles over the speed limit? Really?” Louis questions, sliding the belt over his shoulder and clicking it, anyways.

“Yep.”

Thirty minutes go by before anyone says anything else, and the during the silence Louis pulls up a book on his phone. He gets a little car sick when he reads, but as long as he looks up every so often he tends to do just fine. Plus, if he pukes all over Harry’s seat, then— oops?

“Pull up a map on your phone real quick, I need to make sure I’m getting off on the right exit.”

Louis wordlessly pulls up his internet, smiling at himself while he types before handing Harry the phone. He looks at it, and it only takes a second before he’s dropping the phone to his lap with an annoyed sigh. “Really?”

“What’s wrong?”

“You honestly pulled up a definition? Are you twelve?”

“It was a proper mistake.” Louis says, voice dripping with sarcasm. “But, I’m curious, what definition is it?”

“Don’t play fucking dumb, Louis. You googled the definition of ‘speed limit’ to be a little smart ass,” Harry bites back, and Louis has to fight the smile that’s aching to grow on his lips.

“Since you apparently don’t know what it means, I just thought I’d inform you.”

Louis' fun lasts for a total of about ten seconds before his heart stops beating. Red and blue lights begin flashing in the rearview mirror, with sirens blaring from behind, and a panic attack immediately starts.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” Louis says on a loop. Liam wakes up from a dead sleep, disoriented as hell.

Harry looks completely unbothered as he pulls the car off to the side, leaning up off his seat to grab the wallet out of his back pocket.

“We’ve been in the car for a total of three hours and you’re already getting pulled over,” Louis hisses, clenching his teeth tight. “Are you fucking _kidding_ me.”

“Chill.”

“Don’t tell me to chill, you idiot! We’re going to get caught! I told you to slow down, this is exactly—”

Louis’ words immediately halt when Harry looks back, taking his glasses off and folding them over the collar of his shirt.

“Chill, Louis.” His voice is completely calm, but Louis’ is taken back by the bright shade of green in his eyes. They have to be the most vivid, alluring shade of the color that Louis’ ever seen in his life.

While Louis is busy staring in awe, the cop knocks on the window with his face pulled into an annoyed grimace. The second Harry has the window fully down, the officer says, “Harry Styles. Again?”

Which. _Again?_

Great, so being pulled over is a common occurrence for him. So common, in fact, that a cop

knows him by his full name. This road trip honestly could not get better.

“Coincidences,” Harry says, shrugging.

“Right. License and registration.”

Harry hands it to him immediately, giving an innocent smile as the man walks back to his car. “It’s just a speeding ticket. You both can calm down.”

“That was fast,” Liam mumbles, mostly to himself. “Yeah, well the cops here hate me, so.”

“Surprise, surprise.” Louis’ voice is more like a whisper, but Harry still hears and shoots him a dismissive look.

In about ten minutes the officer comes back, saying, “I clocked you going eighty five, which is a felony.”

Louis thinks he’s going to vomit.

“You’re lucky that I’m in a good mood today, so I’ll let you off with a warning this o ne time.” The cop glances back at Louis, who's sitting wide eyed and white as a ghost in the back seat. “If I ever catch you going that fast again, I won’t hesitate to arrest you.”

“Okay,” Harry says, nodding. “Thank you, sir.”

The cops hands him back his information, looking beyond disappointed, before giving Louis and Liam a nod and walking off. He climbs into his squad car and pulls off, leaving the three boys in silence until Harry speaks up. “He’s friends with my dad. He didn’t just let me off without cause.”

“That doesn’t seem fair.” Liam knits his brows, shaking his head.

“Trust me, he’s given me plenty of tickets. He probably didn’t feel like dealing with the paperwork, today.”

“Can we avoid getting pulled over again?” Louis asks as soon as he can find his voice. “My heart really can’t handle the stress.”

Harry looks like he wants to say something, probably about Louis being a wimp, but he bites his bottom lip and slides his sunglasses back on. Without another word he puts the car in gear and merges back onto the interstate.

The car is quiet for a while, and Louis hates it. He doesn’t like the stiff air and the way his throat feels dry. For some reason, he asks, “Why were you at the park at three in the morning?”

Harry looks back, almost surprised that Louis’ talking to him voluntarily. “Uhm, I was bored.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Why is anyone bored? Because they don’t have anything to do.”

Louis perks up, kind of loving the way Harry easily answers his question. So, he continues. “Your parents are okay with you driving us all the way to New York? Seems odd.”

“I’m never home anyway.”

“Why?”

“Is this a game of twenty questions?” Harry fires back, glancing at Louis in the rearview mirror. “If so, then I should be able to ask you questions, too.”

Louis swallows, leaning back into the cool leather. “Go for it.”

“Okay.” Harry pauses to think. “Oral or anal?”

Louis chokes, and Liam bursts out in an embarrassing howl. Everything goes hot and uncomfortable, and Louis doesn’t know where to look. He silently debates changing the subject, trying to rack his brain for something, anything else to talk about.

“He wouldn’t know.” Liam’s laugh calms, and Louis stares daggers into the back of his head. In no way, shape or form is that anyone’s business, especially Harry’s.

“Hm,” Harry hums, the sound vibrates. “You’re a virgin, then?”

“That’s none of your business,” Louis hisses between his teeth, but the anger is completely directed toward Liam.

Harry’s lips curve into a smirk, still somehow deep enough to pop out the dimple in his cheek. “Okay.”

“Anyways,” Louis says, shaking his head. “Do you not have a job or college or something? I don’t get how you can just drop everything to drive across the country.”

“If you’re so curious, I gave up all my plans just to spend time with you.” He peers back, shooting Louis a fake smile. If Louis didn’t know better, he would say that the look Harry gives him is flirtatious, absolutely teasing when he adds, “Baby.”

Even his fake smile is so beautiful it makes Louis squirm in his seat. Part of him wants to smack Harry, part of him wants to... Nothing. Never mind.

Louis shakes the thought and refocuses, putting on the most deadpan expression he can muster. “Good one. You’re great at avoiding questions.”

“Thanks, I try.”

Louis sighs, pulling out his cell to see if he’s gotten any text messages from their parents.

Luckily, the coast is still clear.

Liam and Harry start talking about the plans for once they reach New York, and Louis hopes that Harry will forget the conversation they’ve just had about his sex life. While it isn’t any of Harry’s business and Louis would rather keep something so personal private, he’s also the slightest bit embarrassed by how inadequate he seems to be, sexually, in comparison to the older boy. He doesn’t want to talk about it.

He tries laying down, grabbing a blanket from the back seat and throwing it over his body. Louis’ probably not going to fall asleep any time soon, but at least no one will talk to him and he can avoid any more potentially awkward conversation for the next few hours. He makes it a mission to doze off and stay that way until they’re out of California.

The hum of the road and the gentle vibrations are relaxing, with only an occasional jerk from the gear shifting, but not enough to make him uncomfortable. He can feel the weight shift as the car makes a turn, and he guesses that the feeling is from the car merging off the highway, and also that Liam lent Harry his phone for directions, what with Louis pulling a prank when offering his own phone. He’s glad he did it, too.

If the road trip continues like this, Louis doesn’t know if he’ll make it. He can’t stand being annoyed, or treated like he’s overreacting. That’s been the whole trip so far, though, and on top of that, Louis hates third wheeling. He wonders if there’s any chance he can hop off half way and take a bus back home to lay low at Niall’s until the month is over.

If Louis decides that he can’t stand it any more, he’ll find a way to end his suffering. He really hopes that it doesn’t get to that point, though, because he’s trying his hardest to stay optimistic, even if it doesn’t seem that way.

But, with the cool air coming out of the vents and the steady sound of the wheels on pavement, Louis finds himself drifting off, in and out of consciousness. He’s able to pretend he’s at home in his own bed, not worried about the things that could go wrong.

He does that for about two hours until he’s completely knocked out with a blanket wrapped tightly around him and the seat belt digging into his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm going to be trying to update this fic about once a week. If I ever take too long, don't hesitate to light a fire under my ass and send me some messages. Seriously. 
> 
> As always, you can find my tumblr [here](https://subharrybless.tumblr.com) and my twitter [here](https://twitter.com/kiwisfionn)
> 
> Leave me anons, message me, chat with me, whatever you like! Again, thanks for reading! :)


	3. Nevada

Truthfully, the ride isn’t as awful as Louis had expected, given Harry’s apparent tendency to speed. It’s been rather nice since he’s opted to pretend like he’s fast asleep for most of the ride since California. It’s been hours now, and Louis finds it just a bit hard to stifle a laugh when he hears Liam whine about not having the backseat. He smashes his face against the seat, disguising even the smallest of giggles as coughs. Even though he's a shit actor, neither Liam or Harry seem to be onto him. 

It was even funnier when Harry told Liam that he would just have to wait. So, unfortunately, that’s what he had to do. 

Not so unfortunate for Louis, the leather of the backseat has stayed cool beneath him. For hours, he listened to the sound of the tires over asphalt and some Nirvana playing in the background. The sun began to set and the sky grew gradually darker. Louis hid his phone--and his face--under the blanket and scrolled some social media sites, played some games, and texted Niall. 

His slumber wasn’t entirely a farce, however. He found himself dozing off every now and again, and he’d have the same dream every time. It involved Liam knocking on the front door where his birth parent’s lived. He’d be tittering back and forth, gnawing his lip nervously. No one ever answered the door, and Louis watched as the excitement drained from Liam’s eyes only to be replaced with a crippling sadness. 

Louis woke up with an ache in his heart every single fucking time. 

After he’d woken up for the third or fourth time, he heard Liam’s squeal and the shutter of his phone camera. “Look! We’re in Nevada!” 

Harry, being the asshole and buzzkill he is, just responded with, “Thanks for the info, co-captain. Now, if only I could read all by myself.” 

So, to recap the drive through California, Louis faked multiple hours of sleep while Liam made innocent comments about where they were, and Harry returned them with some sarcastic response. No matter how hard he tries, Louis just can’t seem to fathom why on earth Liam would want to be friends with someone like Harry. 

Usually, Liam goes for the happy-go-lucky type of friend. The kind that will laugh at jokes they didn’t find funny, and pretend to be interested in boring stories, just for your own sake. Harry was nothing like that. Louis finds himself imagining a scenario where Liam and Harry would actually hang out and have a good time together. So far, he’s come up empty handed. Liam never seems to let Harry’s idiotic sense of humor get under his skin--not the way Louis does. 

He’s guessing that Liam’s just been around Harry long enough that he’s grown accustomed to it. Louis doesn’t really think he’ll ever get used to Harry. He’s not sure he’ll ever be able to tolerate him. 

Even nine whole hours after the ordeal, Louis still can’t believe the vile, inappropriate thoughts that rushed through his mind when he’d first laid eyes on Harry. He’s genuinely embarrassed, and all he can do is cross his fingers and hope that Harry never finds out about it. 

During school, after Winchester, Louis would acknowledge the attraction he had to some boys. He admittedly had a few mild crushes. But, they were just that, mild. It was casual, “oh, he has a nice smile,” or, “I could surely see myself dating him.” A few guys caught his eye at a shopping mall or a restaurant, but they were all forgettable. 

Not once has his mind or body reacted the way it did towards anyone before Harry. That’s a scary thought in and of itself. Apart from all the witty, nasty insults he throws Louis’ way, he’ll admit that Harry is undoubtedly the most attractive person he’s ever seen in his entire seventeen years of life. But, his personality lumps him with all the overly confident douche bags that plague his school, and that makes him ugly. 

What’s even more embarrassing is that Liam was there to witness the ogling and drooling in all it’s glory. He saw Louis’ disgusting, lustful looks. Now Liam knows that Louis finds Harry cute, but Louis' still going to hold onto the hope that it doesn’t overshadow Louis’ opinion on Harry. He still means every hateful word he’s ever said about Harry. 

So. 

At least the backseat is relatively comfortable and cool. Louis’ always found it hard to not burn up when he tries to sleep. He’s the type of person who is always hot. He romps around in tank tops when it’s a frigid sixty five degrees, and his parents have always considered him odd for that. Liam, on the other hand, is always cold. The thermostat was basically a war zone when they were growing up. 

Liam always won. Their dad would say, “if you get hot, take a cold shower or use a fan. We’re not going to make everyone else uncomfortable just because you’re hot.” 

Because it would’ve been just awful if Liam had to put on a sweater. A true travesty. 

He’s content though, cold seats and a warm blanket, the radio on low and air blowing steadily through the vents. It’s been relaxing when no one says anything, but the music makes the silence less awkward. He can hear the occasional car whiz by, the blackened silhouettes of the trees ghosting over the window. 

The number of cars on the road begin to dwindle until they’re a rare sight. As much as Louis tries to fight it, his stomach is starting to grumble and growl. Harry and Liam had stopped earlier to grab some food but Louis decided to opt out and remain in his fake sleep. Now, he’s regretting it and his mouth is salivating at the thought of a full meal. 

Louis’ not a good actor, but he tries nonetheless to rise from the backseat and stretch, throwing in a small squeak for dramatic effect. “Morning.” 

“It’s ten thirty at night,” Harry says, dryly. 

“Anyway,” Louis sighs, dismissing Harry and looking out the window, pretending to let his eyes adjust, “I’m starving.” 

“Sucks.” 

Liam’s already starting to nod off, but he’s awake just enough to chime in, “I’m getting a little hungry, too.” 

Harry lets out an audible groan, and Louis can guarantee he’s rolling his eyes. “We’re gonna pass through Spring Valley next. I guess go ahead and look up some places we can stop.” 

Liam wordlessly nods, pulling out his cell phone. Louis gives a big yawn for good measure. “There’s a twenty four hour diner that we could stop at. That way we can get out and stretch our legs a bit.” 

They all agree that it’s a brilliant idea, considering that hours upon hours in a car will have a negative toll on your body. Louis’ legs and back are already starting to ache. 

Nevada doesn’t look a whole lot different than California, but it does feel different. Even looking out the window at the same sky and the same stars, it feels like he’s a thousand miles from home. 

He focuses on the never-ending landscape, noting the sparse buildings begin to become to abundant as they veer off the next exit. Luckily, the diner is only a few minutes up the road, so Liam and Harry don’t have to suffer through the annoying sounds of Louis’ complaining stomach. 

The diner is small, tucked away from view on the main road. The lights are a blaring neon yellow. It’s not somewhere Louis would pick if he’d had any say in the matter, but honestly he’d eat a raw potato right now if it meant getting something in his stomach. 

The inside follows the same retro vibe that the outside had. Black and white tiles fill the floor, with red and yellow booths and a few two-seater tables in the center. The grill behind the register is huge, sizzling patties resting on the top despite their only being two other customers in the entire restaurant. Sixties music plays softly over the speakers, and Louis bobs his head along as they wait to be seated. 

“Are you guys here for dine-in or pick up?” The waiter asks. He has a friendly tone of voice and a kind, but tired smile on his face. He only looks to be around twenty or so, but he's cute. It makes Louis smile. 

“Dine-in,” Harry replies, his own voice sounding a lot nicer than it usually does. The gravelly, sarcastic tone is completely diminished. Louis debates on asking where the real Harry is but ultimately decides against it. 

He brings them over to a booth, Louis sliding in on one side to sit beside Liam, Harry sitting alone directly across from them, already flipping through the menu. After ordering their drinks, Louis folds his hands on his lap. 

“I think I’m gonna get the slider.” 

“Me too,” Louis agrees, “with a loaded baked potato.” 

“How much money did your parents give you, anyway?” Harry asks, eyes not leaving the menu. Something deep down in Louis wishes he’d look up more, because he does have the most beautiful eyes. 

“Well,” Liam blinks, “Louis and I have been saving up since we first decided to take the trip, and I actually started a while before. I was able to get a few hundred from my dad for some clothes for camp, and he gave the same to Louis, too. Plus, the five hundred I kept from my last birthday.”

Harry just nods, absentmindedly chewing on his lips. Louis tells himself not to stare, but he can’t help but think that he does the same thing when he’s deep in thought. 

“Okay. My car guzzles gas like a motherfucker, so that’s where most of our money will probably go.”

“We should stop by Walmart or something tomorrow and get some snack foods,” Louis offers, “y’know, things that don’t need to be refrigerated. That way we don’t have to stop for fast food as much.”

“Good idea,” Liam shoots Louis a smile. “Could save us a lot of time, too.” 

“I could eat everything on this menu,” Louis comments, accompanied by the growl of his stomach. 

Harry looks up, eyebrow cocked, “That’s loud as hell.” 

“I told you I was hungry.” Louis shrugs. 

“I know, I heard.” Harry sets his menu down, running his hand through his hair. “Can either of you guys drive?” 

The sarcasm comes without Louis’ consent when he says, “Yeah.” He laughs, and then, “we just needed a ride because we wanted to be in your presence that badly.” 

“Liam said neither of you owned a car, not that you couldn’t drive, smart ass.” Harry’s words aren’t harsh, but they are annoyed. 

“We can’t.” Liam answers for the both of them. 

“I’ll be good for a few more hours, but we’ll have to stop eventually so I can sleep.”

Just as the conversation begins to die down, the waiter comes back to take their order. What really starts to throw Louis off is the annoying way the waiter seems to only focus on Harry, completely ignoring him and Liam. They’re having some sort of secret exchange with their eyes and it makes both Liam and Louis feel incredibly awkward. 

“We can probably be out of Nevada in five hours with the way I drive. I’ll try to at least get us into Utah before I have to stop.”

“Sounds good to me,” Louis states, and there’s a bitterness in his tone that he hopes no one picks up on. He’s mostly annoyed and uncomfortable. He tells himself that his bad mood stems from his lack of food and immense hunger. 

Liam and Harry talk about some sports team while Louis picks idly at the cuticles on his nails, up until their food finally makes it to the table. He eats without saying a word, absolutely enveloped in the taste, marveling at how good it feels to have something in his stomach. 

He’s glad they stopped here. The food is delicious and so much better than any other fast food place he’s been to. It has a more authentic taste. He could be thinking that because he hasn’t eaten in what feels like days, but either way, he’s happy. 

Harry’s empty plate scooting over the table top jerks Louis' attention away from his own food. “I have to take a piss.” Harry answers a question that no one asked. “Be right back.” 

As soon as Harry’s out of sight, a sheepish smile begins to spread over Liam’s face and the annoyance hits Louis right in the soul. “You still think he’s cute?” 

“No. Absolutely not.” 

“Sure.” Liam laughs, and it's obvious that he doesn’t believe a word Louis says. 

“He’s an ass,” Louis explains through a mouthful of burger. “I kinda want to punch him in the face.” 

They talk a bit about when they’re going to text their parents and let them know that they’re still okay at camp, since they’ll be expecting to hear that they got there safely. While Liam repeats the text he plans to send, Louis noticed Harry’s figure move from the side of his eye. He’s pushing open the side door, the waiter in tow. He bites down the disgust in his throat. 

“So,” Louis interrupts Liam’s speech, “our ride just left with our waiter.” 

“Oh,” Liam says, simply. “That’s wonderful.” He presses his lips together. “Now the whole car is gonna smell like sex.” 

Louis fights back the look of disgust on his face, replacing it with a half-assed smile. “Sucks to be you. It’s my turn to have the passenger seat.” Louis shrugs as Liam’s face flashes with pure horror. Louis’ just glad he faked it this long, because even though he loves Liam, he’s glad he dodged that bullet. The last thing he wants to do is sit in Harry’s sex seat. 

Liam sighs, “I’m gonna kill him.” 

“You pick great friends, huh?” Louis voice is full of judgement. “Leaves us here to hook up with some waiter he doesn’t even know? Really nice of him. Can’t say I’m surprised.” 

“How about we pretend they’re on a smoke break?” Liam tries, desperately trying to look less disgusted. 

Louis just laughs, crossing his arms and leaning back into the booth. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.” 

Things kind of go downhill from that point on. They both sit at the booth, staring at leftovers as they wait. Twenty minutes go by and nothing happens. They talk about how they’d rather be anywhere else but here. Another fifteen minutes tick by, and still nothing. Finally, ten more minutes drag on before the side door creaks open. 

Harry, obviously, looks different. Bangs soaked to his forehead, face blushing a bright pink, lips swollen and puffy, pulled into a sideways smile. Louis wants to scream at him. 

Instead, he gets up wordlessly, leaving the money for their bill on the table and passing Harry without a single word. He’s positive that annoyance is written all over his face, but he doesn’t care, he’s just ready to leave and get back on the road. The sooner they get to New York, the better. 

Harry reaches out, grabbing Louis’ arm, which he immediately jerks away. “You’re acting like a child again.” Harry’s words make Louis even more mad. 

“Don’t touch me,” he practically growls. “We’ll meet you in the car.” 

Harry doesn’t exchange any more words with the waiter before they leave the diner. The space between the three of them is thick with tension. Liam scoots along behind them, whistling to some random song. Louis guesses he’s trying to lighten the mood. When Liam reluctantly slides into the back seat, he swallows hard. Louis feels bad for him, he really does. 

“I went to get gas,” Harry says as a pathetic attempt to lie, but his voice gives away that he’s not even trying to be deceitful. 

“Can we go?” Louis asks, not bothering to push it because to be honest, he really doesn’t give a fuck. 

After they’ve left and merged back onto the main road, it stays pretty quiet. The radio is low, so low that Louis can’t even make out a specific song. He counts the yellow lines on the road for a few more minutes before giving up and deciding to call Niall. 

“Louis!” His voice fills the car, cheery as it could possibly be. 

“Hey.” Harry’s head jerks towards Louis, then back to the road. “What’s up?” 

“Just got off work,” Niall breathes into the phone. “These long shifts are going to fucking kill me.” 

“Well, you’re making good money, so quit bitching,” Louis jokes, feeling the leftover tension in the car begin to finally evaporate. It’s just not possible to be aggravated when you’re talking to Niall. Louis’ tried, many times. 

“True,” he agrees. “Where are you guys now?” 

“Nevada. We just got done eating. We’re gonna try to make it to Utah before we stop so Harry can sleep.” Louis glances over at Harry, just briefly to see the curl of his wet bangs. “I’m sure he’s pretty worn out now.” He means every bit of accusation in his tone. He catches Harry’s hands tighten around the wheel. 

“I bet.” 

“I’ll take some pictures once it gets lighter out, maybe Liam and I can go sightseeing while we wait for Harry to get his eight hours in.” Louis starts playing with his fingernails again. 

“Don’t forget!” Niall shouts. “I really do want pictures from all the states you visit. Your pictures always turn out so good, where mine look like they were taken with a potato.” 

“Unless they’re selfies,” Louis interjects, “they always turn out absolutely terrible.” 

“Mine too, it’s a curse.” 

“It is,” Louis agrees. He updates Niall on how he’s ‘slept’ for the past eight hours of the ride and now he’s wide awake. They talk about how pretty it’ll be when the sun finally rises, and how different they both think it’ll be on the East coast. Louis really wishes Niall had come along. This trip would be so much better.

It’s around three in the morning when Niall finally says he needs to get some sleep, almost passing out while he’s in the middle of the sentence. “Don’t forget the pictures,” he reminds Louis once more. 

“Of course, go to sleep.” 

“Yeah, goodnight, Louis. Good luck driving through the rest of Nevada. I hope it’s fun.” 

Louis nods, knowing Niall can’t see it. “Me too,” he says, half-heartedly, then hangs up the phone. 

He hasn’t even pulled the phone away from his face before Harry asks, “Who was that?” 

“My friend.” 

“Who?” 

“Why do you need to know?” Louis shoots back, staring out of his window. He doesn’t really want to look at Harry. He’s still annoyed. 

“I don’t.” Harry’s voice softens. “Just, his accent sounded familiar.” 

Louis doesn’t say anything, leaning his head against the cool glass. He can feel every bump in the road, but it’s still much more comfortable than the backseat. Liam is knocked the hell out, his face smashed against the leather and Louis feels the tickle of a gag in the back of his throat. He’s not used to watching people leave and hook up with someone they don’t know. He’s always thought of sex as a much more personal, intimate thing. 

He doesn’t classify himself as a prude, but he doesn’t necessarily think he’s as open minded as some people out there. Even though he’s had some thoughts and desires, he would never think to do anything so rash. He’s just not confident in that manner. 

But, nonetheless, Louis can’t help but silently judge Harry, and he’s a bit ashamed of it. He’s skeptical of the thought process that goes through Harry’s head when he’s doing things like that. 

Will I get some sort of disease?

Could this person go and tell everyone, spread rumors?

What if this person doesn’t have the best intentions?

Does every sexual experience of Harry’s only equal a notch in his belt, or do they mean something to him? Even just a little? 

He tries not to think too deeply into it. After all, Harry is plenty old enough to make his own decisions. It’s really none of Louis’ business, either. 

Out here, away from the any buildings, businesses, or city life, the stars pepper all through the sky. They’re everywhere, and it’s as unusual as it is breathtaking. Louis and Liam live where streetlights are always shining and blocking out the stars. Here, they’re absolutely overtaking the entire atmosphere.

Louis can see galaxies. 

“Has Liam ever talked to these people before?” Harry’s deep voice scares Louis, and his startled jump causes Harry to snort out a laugh. 

Louis rolls his eyes, and responds, “No, I don’t think he has.” He leans his head back against the glass window. 

“How do you know they even want to see you guys then? It’d be kind of a waste to drive all this way just to have a door slammed in your face.” 

“Liam needs to know,” Louis pauses, picking at his fingers and trying to word everything right, because this is something neither Louis or Harry will ever understand. “If it goes sour, that’s still an answer. It just means they don’t regret their decision.” 

Harry’s quiet for a few thoughtful seconds, then, “Not everything needs an answer.” 

“It does when you’ve been asking yourself the same one since you were a child,” Louis says, and the conversation dies down after that. Harry’s grip on the wheel tightens and loosens, fidgety, and Louis can tell he’s starting to tired by the way his eyes seem to go out of focus. So, he tries to make small talk to keep Harry awake just a bit longer. 

“You do this often?” Louis asks, adjusting himself deeper into the seat. 

“Why does it sound like you’re trying to pick me up at a bar or something?” 

“I wouldn’t know,” Louis shrugs. “I’m too young to go into a bar.” 

“Never watched a movie?” 

“Shut up,” his words lack the conviction they normally have. “I meant, like, driving all the way across the country with barely any notice.”

“Life is boring. This sounded entertaining.” Harry’s answer is simple and unthought. 

“Hm,” Louis presses his lips together, “entertaining isn’t really the word I’d use to describe it.” 

“That’s because you’re a pussy. Learn to relax a little bit, kid.” 

In one single sentence, Harry manages to shoot a fully loaded syringe of annoyance into Louis’ veins. “Don’t call me a pussy,” he cringes at the word, “or a kid.” 

“Or what?” 

Louis doesn’t dignify his taunt with a response, instead letting out a big huff as he refocuses his attention out the window. After a few seconds go by, Harry voices fill the car again, and Louis’ eyes automatically roll to the back of his head. Why did he think small talk would be a good idea? 

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you feelings, baby?” Harry pouts out his lower lip. 

“Don’t talk to me.” 

“So uptight,” Harry says, barely loud enough for Louis to hear. 

“Excuse me?” Louis raises his brows, but it doesn’t intimidate Harry--not one single bit. 

“I said,” Harry’s voice gets louder, “you’re too uptight. Try getting laid, that might chill you out a bit.” 

Louis takes a deep breath, trying to swallow down his burning frustration. “Pass.” 

“Pass on a good fuck? Are you even human?” 

“Yeah,” Louis spits, “I don’t hook up with random people I just met, because I have self respect. Maybe you should get some, too.” 

Harry laughs out a ooh, like he’s mocking Louis’ directly stinging tone. All of Louis’ negative energy seems to bounce off Harry and ricochet back onto him, which is fucking irritating. 

“Someone’s grumpy.” Harry fake pouts again. 

“Fuck off.” 

Harry gasps, hand landing on his chest in faux horror. “Mind your language, Louis. Don’t be inappropriate.” 

“Screw off.” 

“That’s better.” 

Louis really, really wants to come back with a smart ass remark, but he physically bites back his tongue, swallowing back the words that are threatening to come up. He has to remind himself to keep things civil for Liam’s sake. 

The sun is starting to come up, just slightly turning the sky a faint shade of blue. Louis hasn’t watched the sun come up in years, not since his nightly escapades with Liam where they’d joke and chat until the early hours of the morning. For some reason, he loves it. 

He loves watching the everything slowly start to come alive and transform while half the world is still sound asleep, completely unaware. 

“The sun’s coming up,” Louis says, mostly to himself. 

“Yeah.” 

The clock on the dash reads a little past five, which is the usual time the camp leaders would wake up and meet before taking the kids to the morning ceremony. So, he pulls out his phone and types a messages to his mother. 

‘Hey, just woke up, about to get ready for the ceremony. Just wanted to let you know we’re doing okay. Love you, call you later. xx’ 

After some overly extensive proof reading to make sure it doesn’t sound fabricated, he presses send and shoves the phone between his thighs. 

“You getting tired?” He asks, noting the car start to veer off to the side just a bit. 

“I’m fine,” Harry answers, but is completely contradicted by his own yawn. 

“I think we should pull off soon. It’s dangerous to drive when you’re tired, you get impaired.” 

“We’re only about ten minutes from the border.” Harry glances over, his eyes now surrounded by a faint red, but the green never fails to mesmerize Louis. “We’ll find some shade and pull over then.” 

“No motel? Won’t you burn up if you sleep in the car?” Louis asks. It’s Nevada in the middle of summer, after all. 

“I’ll open the back hatch, okay? This isn’t my first rodeo.” 

Louis doesn’t let Harry’s words get to him. “Can you drop Liam and I off at a shopping center first? So we’ll have something to do while you’re sleeping?” 

“Sure.” 

Louis reclines in his seat, propping his feet up onto the dash. His eyes veer over to Harry, who doesn’t seem to care. The new position causes Louis’ back to pop, and it feels absolutely euphoric. He’s never been in a car this long, and it’s pretty uncomfortable, to say the least. They’re not even halfway there yet, not even close. 

He’d promised Niall he’d take a ton of pictures, but it’s been dark the majority of the time they’ve been in Nevada. He snaps a few through the window, then rolls it down to mute the glare. When the warm air rushes in, it feels orgasmic, the smell of fresh morning air soaks up the car.

Both Louis and Harry’s hair is blowing around like crazy, and Louis can’t hide his laughter when Harry tries desperately to push his curls back out of his eyes. He doesn’t look annoyed, though, and he rolls down his own window, relaxing his head back against the headrest. The air probably makes him feel more awake. 

They ride like that for a bit, no music, no talking, just the flutter of the wind whipping and the sounds of the tires on the road. It’s long and straight, which makes it feel like they’re going slower than they actually are. When Louis peeks at the speedometer, the dial reads just over eighty miles per hour. 

It feels like hours before they reach a curve in the road. Past the sparse vegetation, neon lights and signs litter the side of the road. As the car approaches, he can read in thick, black letters, Road Work Ahead and Detour Route.

Construction has already started, even though it’s only a little after five in the morning. The whole road is pretty much blocked off at this point. Harry pulls up as close as he can get, whispering, “what the fuck,” to himself as he waves a worker to come over. His eyes are scarily bloodshot. 

One of the men lays down a clip board, pulling off his hard hat as he comes over to Harry’s window, “How can I help ya?” 

“Yeah, uh,” Harry says, the exhaustion clear in his voice now, “we’re just passing through the state, trying to get to Utah. Will that detour still take us there?” 

“Course,” He nods, pointing down the road, “take that way and follow the road signs, adds about an hour to the border but it’ll get you there.” 

“Are there any places to stop?” 

“Not really. Couple of gas stations but that’s about it until you hit the next city, then you’re basically in Utah.”

“Okay, thanks.” Harry gives him a slight smile, and the man nods, throwing him a sympathetic look. Harry’s obviously tired, the rising sun making the circles under his eyes more prominent. “I’m not going to last another hour,” He tells Louis. 

“I know. We can just pull off now, that way it doesn’t get too hot. Liam and I can just hang and talk for a bit, maybe walk around.” 

Even still, Harry drives for about another thirty minutes before the car starts to swerve over into the emergency lane. Once he finally pulls over, it’s on a little side street that likely leads to nowhere, but there’s some shade and trees, so it’s the perfect place to park for a while. 

Liam wakes up when the car comes to a complete stop and the engine shuts off, “Where are we?” 

“Nevada, half an hour from Utah, but Harry’s gotta sleep before he kills us all.” Louis explains, laughing at how utterly disoriented Liam looks, his hair standing up all over the place. 

“Okay,” Liam sits up, stretching out his arms and legs, his bones popping and echoing through the car, “what should we do while we wait?”

“We’ll find something. There’s probably a gas station a few miles down, we can walk and get some snacks and drinks, see if they have wifi so we can watch movies.” 

“Works for me.” Liam says, opening the back door and immediately getting out to walk around. Louis follows, feeling the soreness in his muscles. He really wishes they’d had enough money to take a plane. Too bad he’s petrified of them. 

Louis grabs his phone charger from his bag, making sure he has his wallet. Harry walks, half dead, to the back, where he throws open the hatch, falling right onto the pile of blankets. He pretty much enters a coma as soon as his face hits the fabric. Next time, Louis’ going to make sure he pulls over sooner, he looks like pure exhaustion. 

He updates Liam on the text he’d sent their parents, and let him read over it to ease his mind that Louis didn’t sound even the slightest bit suspicious. Louis doesn’t blame him, honestly, he’s a terrible liar, but everything’s easy to disguise over text. 

It gets pretty boring after a few hours pass, chatting can only go on so long before they run out of things to talk about, so that’s when Louis asks if Liam wants to walk down the road for a few miles to see if they can find a gas station. 

The clouds look pretty dense, not like it’s going to storm any time soon, but just enough to keep the sun pretty well hidden, keeping the air stabilized at a nice temperature. There’s not much scenery around, but Louis snaps a few shots here and there and saves them into an album called ‘Nevada’ to send to Niall later when he’s got better signal. 

“Sure hope we find one soon, I’m thirsty.” 

“Me too.” 

“Every state that we pass through makes me more and more excited and nervous. I just want to get there already.” 

“I bet, don’t think about it too much, if that’s possible. Let’s just try to pretend like we’re just on a fun trip to nowhere and enjoy each state as we go, it might make this a little less stressful.” Louis offers Liam a smile, which seems to comfort him, his eyes melting back into a deep brown, less hardness behind them. 

After about forty-five minutes of walking (it feels like hours) they see a tiny convenience store. Louis’ mouth waters at the thought of cold water and air conditioning. 

The bell over the door rings when they walk in, a friendly smile from the cashier and they walk over to the drinks, wordlessly grabbing a bottled water and sucking down the entire thing in one gulp. Holy fuck, they were even thirstier than Louis thought, and the snacks, especially the little debbie cakes, are making Louis’ stomach growl. 

“I’m gonna pay for some food and the waters, go find a spot and see if they have wifi,” Liam says, grabbing some stuff on the shelves, as much as he can hold. 

Louis wanders over to the back, finding an open wifi, which is extremely lucky. When his phone connects, he pulls out two of the folded chairs from the pool section and sets up a spot for he and Liam to chill out for a little while. 

Louis' phone vibrates as soon as his ass hits the seat, and his heart involuntarily jumps when he sees his mom’s name across the screen. 

_'Okay, love you too, have fun. Xx.’_

Liam plops down next to him, brows lifting when Louis lets out a sigh of relief. “It was mom, but it was nothing important. We’re still in the clear.” 

“Cool,” Liam smiles, throwing some snacks into Louis’ lap, “the dude at the counter said they have free wifi. It’s not the fastest but it’ll work. He also said it’d be fine if we sat back here out of the sun, as long as we don’t bother the customers. It’s usually not too busy, so it shouldn’t be an issue.” 

“Works for me.” Louis makes himself as comfortable as he can in the chair, leaning into it and scooting closer to Liam. His phones not adequate for movies, but it’s enough for both of them to see. So, he props it onto the shelf, leaning it against some toilet paper rolls to stabilize it. 

He picks a classic movie, Lilo and Stitch, to watch. They can probably fit The Emperor's New Groove in there too, which they both love, and it’s appropriate to watch even with passing customers. Plus, he’s kind of a kid at heart and adores both of those movies. 

So, they sit back, watch the screen and Louis munches on a cupcake while Liam picks over some white cheddar popcorn. And they watch animated kids movie at a convenience store in Nevada. 

 

****

 

At around one in the afternoon, Liam gets a message from Harry. 

He asks where they are, and Louis feels relief and happiness all at once that he’s finally awake and they can get back on the road again. After numerous movies and too many snacks, he’s all but begging to be back in the car and making some progress. 

They thank the worker (the new one whose shift just started like, an hour ago) when they see Harry pull in. The car is already cool when Louis hops into the backseat, stretching his legs over the entire length. “Morning, sunshine.” 

Harry’s eyes are still puffy and his hair is a curly mess, sunglasses pulled over, probably to hide the sleepiness in his eyes. “Shut up.” 

Louis raises his hands in defense. “Someone’s not a morning person.”

“Technically,” Liam holds up his index finger, “it’s the afternoon.” 

“He’s not a morning or afternoon person.” 

Harry turns up the dial on the radio, letting the rock music blast through the car, “Your voice is getting on my nerves.” 

Louis just smiles, because it’s nice to be the one getting on Harry’s nerves instead. Harry is always so willing to bother Louis, it’s not like he doesn’t want to squeeze every drop of annoyance out of Harry that he possibly can. It’s just funny, and entertaining, “Good.”

More ACDC plays, some Metallica, some Rolling Stones, Pink Floyd, White Snake, and a tiny bit of Journey while they finish off what is left of Nevada. 

They weren’t too far from the state line before they’d stopped, so it doesn’t take long for them to finally get to the border. Of course, Liam has to get a picture and let out a girly squeal which Louis assumes he’s going to do at every single border they pass until they get to New York. 

It still seems so far away, being as Utah is only a few states away from California and they still have to get through Colorado and Nebraska before they even hit Iowa, which Louis considers the halfway point. It’s going to be a long ass road trip, that’s for sure. 

Harry stays grumpy for a while, not really saying much unless he’s asking Liam to update him on the directions. Louis concludes that Harry probably won’t be his chipper and annoying self until later tonight, his guess is around nine or ten, or maybe until he eats. 

Louis asks if he wants to stop and eat, but he says he’s still hot from sleeping and he’s not hungry yet. Which, whatever. Louis’ content with going longer before they stop anywhere. He has a whole bag of snacks in the grocery bag, some waters, Gatorades and sodas, so he’s pretty much set. 

Plus, he was gifted with a penis which makes peeing on the side of the road a hell of a lot easier, and more discreet. 

He did make sure to change in the convenience store before they left, so he’s covered in the softest cotton he owns and he’s all curled up in the backseat with the air on full blast and a thin blanket wrapped around him. 

Nevada was actually beautiful once he got a good look at it, even though the terrain they’d seen was mostly flat, it seemed to go on for miles and miles, never-ending landscapes and a perfect skyline. Plus, Louis’ a big fan of overcast because it makes things look more relaxing, and that might just be him, but. 

It starts to drizzle as they venture further from the state line, which starts to make Louis a bit sleepy. Rain always has that sort of affect on him. 

Harry and Liam eventually get into some kind of argument over a subject Louis couldn’t care less about, the Rocky movie series, and he doesn’t care enough to listen to what about it they’re even disagreeing on. They also talk about the movie Gran Torino, which Louis loves but it breaks his heart. Every. Single. Time. 

So, he throws in his ear buds and puts all of his songs on shuffle. The first one to come on is Toxic by Britney Spears--which makes him feel kinda feisty so he bops along and watches the drops of rain trickle down the windshield and lets himself get a little aggravated over the little triangle the wipers can never get to. 

Louis spends his first moments in a new state trying to fight the instinct to lip sync the lyrics 'oh the taste of your lips, I’m on a ride’ and enjoying the view as the land gets soaked under the steady fall of water. And, he checks off the next state on his list. 

Welcome to Utah.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so, so sorry this update took so damn long. I'll try my very best to post sooner next time, I promise! 
> 
> As always, feel free to talk to me, ask me things, anything you'd like over [here](https://subharrybless.tumblr.com) on my tumblr :)
> 
> Enjoy!

**Author's Note:**

> Please be sure to leave a comment about your thoughts so far, I _love_ hearing feedback from you, always! 
> 
> also, leave a kudos if you feel so inclined :)


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